One Week
by BasementOfTheMansion
Summary: Michael didn't notice Toby's return for five days. Someone else did. Slightly Kelly/Toby.
1. Shop Talk

**Day 1 - Shop Talk  
Disclaimer: **I'm only gonna say this once... Not mine. Not ever.  
**A/N: **This was the one that kicked it off... How I decided that, yes, I can do another series and not go insane in the membrane. This one picks up the mysterious day that dear Toby returned.

* * *

"How was Costa Rica?"

"...I broke my neck on a zipline. How've things been in Scranton?"

"Pam went to art school for three months. Jim proposed to her at a gas station, and she said yes. Which was totally lame; I mean, a gas station? Anyway, Ryan's back and he's a temp again and... I, uh, I just broke up with Darryl and started dating him again. I... don't really know where that's going. That sucks about the zipline, by the way."

He nodded sagely, like none of this was surprising.

"I didn't really like Holly. I'm glad you're back."

"That makes one of us." But just for that instant, in the length of a shared smile, he was lying.


	2. Underachieving

**Day 2 - Underachiving**

It was... surreal.

Ryan and Kelly making out noisily in the next cubicle, Michael still oblivious to his return, people stopping by every so often for forms or problems--except for a conspicuous duo, but he wasn't going to think about that. Not anymore.

All in all, it was like he'd quantum-leaped a few years back in the past, back to when his life was merely a tolerable mess rather than a disaster. It was a fragile illusion, but he was going to cling to it until it broke.

He knew he should say something to the two of them, just on principle, but why bother? They'd never listened anyway. He wasn't going to begrudge either of them... He recognized Ryan's steely look of "I'm going to make things normal again" that almost but not quite masked the panic in his eyes, and Kelly was the only one who was consistently nice and not weirded out by him thus far.

He was pretty much the worst HR rep in the history of the world, but he was also working for the worst paper company in the history of the world for the worst manager in the history of the world.

He figured that it evened out.

* * *

A/N: I guess this was a sticking point for me. I just get the feeling that when he told the two of them off in FT, it was the first time he'd bothered, and only because he was being filmed. I think Toby doesn't give a damn in S5.


	3. Just Like Perez!

**Day 3 - Just like Perez!**

"Hey, what're you doing?" Kelly asked, wheeling her chair over to the edge of the divider. Ryan was currently somewhere being hassled by Michael.

"Nothing. Thinking," Toby mumbled, tearing his gazed away from forming constellations in old thumbtack holes on the wall.

"'Bout what?" she asked, restlessly spinning from side to side in her swivel chair.

"...The cameras. It's weird being filmed again."

"Oh, yeah... They haven't been back here much lately, though. I don't notice them a lot anymore. Sometimes, though, I totally feel like a debutante, like Paris or someone, with a whole bunch of paparazzi. Hey, I wonder if I'll get totally famous like them if the doc airs?"

"Yeah, but... the media doesn't portray those girls in a very good light."

Kelly pursed her lips, like this had never occurred to her.

"It kind of worries me sometimes," he continued. "How they'll portray everyone in the documentary." By everyone, he meant one specific person.

She shrugged. "I dunno. Hey, you know what? If it airs and everyone gets famous and they put a bunch of dirt about me on air, I'll just sue like everyone did for Borat."

"You can't do that. Everyone had to sign wavers before filming began. You can't take legal action for anything they do or don't air."

"Oh. Damn." She fell silent for about a beat. "Oh, I know! I'll totally have a famous blog just like Perez and give everybody the real story. I bet I'd get so much more famous than everybody else. You should have one, too!"

That was actually enough to make him laugh. "...I don't think I'd get famous. Even if the documentary airs." He figured he'd be a nothing in the background, or the butt of Michael's attempts at jokes, or just some pathetic weirdo that acted vastly inappropriately. None of which were far from the truth.

"It's okay. I'll put the real truth about you in mine," she said offhandedly. "You know what? I should totally start writing it now so I don't forget." She frowned. "I mean when I get home."

Oh. right. Another of the million stupid things he'd done: Sniped at Kelly about her online quizzes because he'd been channeling all his frustration into enforcing HR policies. For once. "You should probably start now. So you don't forget."

She grinned. "Awesome! I'm gonna dish out the dirt on this place so bad..." She ducked back into her cubicle, and soon the clatter of typing and an occasional giggle filled the still air of the annex.

Toby kind of smiled. He didn't care anymore. Hopefully, unemployment and royalty checks would be enough, because he was increasingly sure he's never get another job after this one.

* * *

A/N: This story is increasingly becoming retcon and fan spec. But... So is most fanfiction, so... Also, I'm trying to nicely explain Paul's mediocre acting... Sigh.


	4. Early Birds

**Day 4 - Early Birds**

Kelly walked into the annex around eight-thirty in the morning and found Toby placidly working at his computer.

"Why are you here so early?"

"Oh, hi, Kelly... Um. It causes less trouble."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't run into Michael."

"Are you kidding? You're here a half-hour early just to avoid Michael?"

"An hour, actually. I... don't get much sleep anymore with the... everything." He rubbed the back of his neck absently. "It's just easier. I don't think he knows I'm here yet."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I've managed to avoid him for the past three days. And counting. Kendall never told him that I transferred back. As a favor."

Kelly shook her head in a mixture of amazement and dismay. "Why does Michael hate you so much anyway? Because that's a lot of trouble to go through. Like, a lot."

Toby shrugged. Who could decipher the whys and why nots of Michael Scott? Who would want to?

"Why are you here so early?" he asked instead.

"Oh, well, Ryan needed to be dropped off at his apartment and I didn't want to go back home for, like, ten minutes, and if I drive around, I know I'm going to stop at a McDonald's and get an Egg McMuffin because I've been having crazy cravings for them, 'cause I used to get them all the time and now I'm trying to keep my weight down and there's so many calories in them, it's not even funny, and I can't even think about going to McDonald's without gaining weight and anyway I already had yogurt and granola for breakfast even though I'm, like, totally sick of it, because it's healthy and I'm not wasting choking that crap down on a stupid sandwich, right?"

He nodded. "Uh-huh."

"I know, right? Anyway, I'm gonna go check my email. So.. have a good day, 'k?

"Yeah, you too."

She skipped to the back and he heard her switch on her computer.

Maybe he would. It wasn't starting out too badly.


	5. Lumbar Support

**Day 5 - Lumbar Support**

"Why is your chair squeaking so much?" Kelly had taken to bothering Toby whenever Ryan managed to slip away.

"It's... messed up," Toby said uncomfortably, shifting and making the metal whine in protest. "Is this even the same chair that used to be here? It's killing my back."

Kelly just shrugged. He sighed, and gingerly rubbed his aching neck. His entire spine felt like it had been removed with a solidified column of ache.

"Wow... You look messed up. Wanna trade chairs?"

"...Yeah, sure."

She wheeled it out and they switched.

"Any better?"

"I can't really tell," he said, leaning back experimentally. It didn't feel quite as loose and squeaky, at least.

"You know what? I was reading this article on massage in Cosmo," she said, sitting down in his old chair. "You should consider that, you know, if your back is bothering you."

"Mmm," he murmured noncommittally, turning back to the form he'd been working on. He'd been doing physical therapy, and it was about as ineffectual as everything else. In his life.

"There were instructions for, like, do-it-yourself simple ones,' she continued, and he tensed because her hands were suddenly on his shoulder and her thumbs were gently pressing small, slow circles on his shoulder blades.

Toby stopped breathing for a few seconds.

Then he dragged in a long, steady breath. "...I think you should stop doing that," he said, very quietly, in the kind of voice that was a pin dropping in a silent room.

The movement stopped, her hands slacked. "Sorry. Does that hurt?" She pulled her hands away. "Sorry." She hopped up and wheeled his old chair--her new chair--back to her side.

When she was gone, he let the tension fall out of his shoulders inch by inch until he might have been mistaken for relaxed. The skin of his upper back felt tingly, like some of her vitality had seeped through the worn fabric of his blazer and shirt.

Like she had drawn some of the pain away.

And left a swimming, fluttery, uncertain nausea in its stead.

* * *

A/N: Okay, lemme explain. I wrote this because of the scene in which Holly disassembled Toby's old (and, I assume, now current) chair. Because if there's anyone who ends up holding the bill for someone else's romantic flirting, it's Toby. Then, a week and a half after it's done, we get the chairs-verses-copier deathmatch that I had NO forwarning about. Am I psychic? ...Yes.


	6. The Worst Day of My Life

A/N: Our Michael-less week is up... I now present the aftermath of "Frame Toby."

* * *

**Day 6 - The Worst Day of My Life**

Kelly sat at the break room table, picking at a Milky Way and looking shaken.

Something inside Toby sighed. He hadn't quite vocalized the hope that the same kind of voice that had urged him to deck Michael would be there to agree with him that what had transpired was awful and illegal and... very tiring. Now that this was clearly not an option, he felt the empty space where it might have been very acutely.

But instead of limping back to the annex to hide until he could leave or looking into the legal action he could undoubtedly take, he sat down across from her.

"Ryan dumped me," she said immediately, staring at her candy bar. Then she took a vicious bite of it. "Kind of," she continued, still chewing. "He's going to Thailand."

Toby almost might have laughed, if he wasn't crashing after a panic-induced adrenaline rush and feeling sick and aware of every nuance of pain in his neck and... wasn't an HR rep who'd been conditioned to be supportive _all the time._

He settled for a nod. Which hurt.

"What the hell just happened?" she asked, and he wasn't sure to whom she was referring.

"I don't know," he said, truthfully enough on both counts.

She gnawed angrily at her candy bar. "Is Michael going to jail?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"This is, like, the worst day of my life," she growled bitterly. She had no more chocolate.

"Mmm," Toby murmured distractedly. The worst part? This day? This horrible day of being framed for drug possession...

It wasn't the worst day of his life.

Hell, it wasn't even in the top ten.

She stomped over to the vending machine for another fix. "You want anything?" she said as she jabbed a code in with impunity.

Besides a new life? "Kit Kat."

"They're out."

"Whatever."

She returned with a couple of 100 Grands and handed him one.

When he reached for his wallet, she told him not to bother. "It's a dollar," she said dismissively.

They sat in silence after that, waiting for it to be five o'clock.


End file.
